WIP AMNESTY FIC: A Family Thing, SGA
Title: A Family Thing
Fandom: SGA
Rating: Not worth stressing over
Pairings: Rodney and ancient tech would be the underlying OTP. The overlying OTP is nonexistent, because this is gen, baby. Oh, yeah!
Notes: I can’t get into John’s or Rodney’s head, but for some reason, I can get into Dave Sheppard’s head. Go figure. I started writing this as a sort of sequel to Waking John, but 2,600 words into it, I realized I had no idea where I was going with it. I had the same problem with Stupid Portal, only it took me 10,000 words to find the plot in that one. Lately, I don’t have that much patience with myself.
~*~*~
It’s a little more than two years since their father died and maybe ten months or so since John came back from the dead, and Dave finds himself regretting the same damn things all over again: he and John still haven’t fully reconciled, John is too involved with his secret mission to make family a priority, Dave is too involved with the family business to make John a priority. It’s ridiculous, and he really does know better than to leave these things until later, but Dave did it again anyway, and now he’s sliding toward bitter over the fact that he and John can’t get it right even with second and third chances.
Another spasm wracks his body, and all Dave can think about is how much he wishes someone would grow a set and put him out of his goddamn misery. He’s ready to make a deal with the devil, if necessary, and the only thing helping him ride out the pain is the thought of John’s face when they read Dave’s will to him. He lets out a puff of breath in lieu of a chuckle as his muscles slowly relax again.
There’s a commotion outside his door, but Dave can’t bring himself to give a damn. Not now. Maybe later, after they give him a painkiller, but not now. Then he hears John’s voice rise above the others, and he sighs. Much though he’d rather retreat into his head, the fact that John is outside makes him think he doesn’t have long to go. On the plus side, he has one last shot at making peace with John, and that’s probably worth skipping meds over.
Dave opens his eyes when John says, “You’re not dying.”
“Didn’t know you’d gotten your MD,” he says, pausing to catch his breath. John, who knows him better than anyone, despite the years of silence, waits for Dave to finish. “’M hurt you didn’t invite me to the commencement.”
“Yeah, whatever. Look, I’ve got my people outside arguing with your doctors about me taking medical custody.” John looks a bit sheepish. “Which I am, by the way, because they can’t help you here.”
“Don’t have the right.”
“Sure I do,” John says with a grim smile. “I’m family, remember?”
“Sarah -”
“Brother trumps cousin.” John turns around and calls out, “Rodney, get in here.”
“John, don’t,” Dave wants to say, but he can’t.
The spasm that hits is worse than anything he’s suffered through yet, with pain seeming to radiate from everywhere and nowhere. He’s in so much pain and his muscles are so completely out of control that he can’t even curl up to find scant relief. He thinks there might be hands holding him still, but he can’t be certain, not with the pain itself overriding every other sensation. For a long moment, he hangs motionless in agony, and then abruptly, the pain is gone.
Completely.
Dave lies there, panting, as he realizes that he feels normal for the first time in a week. His mouth is dry, but that’s okay, because John is there with a moist swab. Dave chases every last bit of moisture in the swab, and then John raises the bed enough to help him sit forward a little. John earns Dave’s undying gratitude when he helps him take a small sip of water.
A few minutes later, Dave says, “Yeah. Okay. You want medical custody, I’m all for that.”
If he had the strength, Dave would slap the inevitable smirk off John’s face. Instead, he mutters something about payback and drifts hazily while leaning against John’s chest. He doesn’t remember feeling quite this safe since childhood, and that comfort relaxes him into a dreamless sleep.
~*~*~
When Dave wakes up, he has no idea how much time has passed, and for that matter, he has no idea where he is. He’s never seen a hospital room decorated quite the way this one is and can’t believe the military has that much imagination. When he sees John asleep in a nearby chair, Dave wonders how close he came to dying.
For a long time, he simply stares at John, who is asleep with his legs stretched out and his chin tucked into his chest. He looks all of twelve years old, which is absurd for a man his age, and Dave feels compelled to do something about that. It takes him a minute to find what he’s looking for - a cup of ice - and another to situate himself well enough to start flicking ice chips at John. It’s juvenile, and he should have outgrown this behavior once he got out of puberty, but he can’t resist. And anyway, it works, because John startles awake after the third chip lands on his left eyelid.
“The hell?”
Dave leans back, exhausted from such little effort, but he doesn’t mind. There’s no trace of pain, and there’s a good chance he might live after all. He says, “Nice to see you, too, sleepyhead. This how you keep watch when you’re on duty?”
John wipes his face off and scowls, but his heart isn’t in it, and Dave wonders if he’s not out of the woods yet. “How are you feeling?”
Like death warmed over, he thinks. “Tired,” he says, opting for the softer truth.
“Getting infested will do that to you.” John stands up and takes the two steps necessary to bring him to Dave’s side. He looks serious and focused, and for the first time ever, Dave almost believes that John really is the older brother, and it - wait -
“Infested?” The last time Dave heard that word used in this way was when they were nine, and their housekeeper was complaining about lice making the rounds at a nearby public school.
“Infested,” John confirms, his gaze going flat, and Dave can’t stop the shiver that runs through him. John is military, and while Dave isn’t sure about the details of John’s service, he’s suddenly certain that John has killed and is quite ready to do so again - on Dave’s behalf, which is too surreal for him to think about right now.
“John -”
“Look.” John stares at him for a few seconds, his intensity easing enough for Dave to breathe normally again, before finding the rest of his words. “I know what happened to you, and I want to tell you, but you have to sign an NDA first.”
The comment is so far out of left field that Dave is left to wonder if maybe the medications have affected his perception of reality. He blinks and waits for John to smirk and laugh. When John doesn’t do either of those things, Dave says, “I have to sign a non -”
“- disclosure agreement. Yeah.” John follows that up by moving a bed tray over Dave’s lap. There’s a short stack of paper and a pen on the tray, and Dave has to process that this is a real requirement, because whoever heard of a patient having to sign an NDA before they were told about what almost killed them?
“This is -“
“- nuts. I know,” John says. He nudges the tray a little closer. “Sign it, Luke, and I’ll tell you who your real father is.”
“Asshole,” Dave mutters. He ignores John and starts speed-reading through the document. When he hits the third page, he stops and goes back to page one to start reading more carefully. While he’s signed any number of state and federal NDAs, he’s never seen one that threatened to prosecute him for treason and execute him should he be found guilty of disclosing what he was about to learn.
Without looking up, Dave asks, “If I don’t sign?”
“You’ll be stuck in this room for the duration and knocked unconscious when it’s time to get you home.”
“What’s the duration?” Dave isn’t all that eager to sign the NDA, and depending on John’s answer -
“Anywhere from two months to a year,” John says.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Sorry, but I’m not.” Dave looks up then, and he sees the regret on John’s face.
“Jesus.”
Nearly an hour later, after Dave has read through the thing twice and tried unsuccessfully to convince himself that he can stay in a tiny room for a year, he signs the damn thing and hopes like hell it’s worth it. He has no idea how he’s supposed to keep an eye on Shepco while he’s stuck here, but he suspects it will be easier to do if he’s not confined to this room.
John accepts the sheaf of papers back from Dave and goes to the door to hand them off to someone else then comes back to talk to him. Nearly an hour after that, Dave is glaring at John.
“Space vampires?” Dave doesn’t have the energy for this. He should be sleeping and recovering, not fighting with John. But still - “And you thought bringing me here was a good idea because why again?”
John snaps, “Did you miss the part about the nanites in your body? The ones that will broadcast their location as soon as you get back on Earth?”
“No, but -” He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be home, taking care of business during the week and riding during the weekend. Exploration was always John’s thing, because John was, and still is, a fearless prick who doesn’t understand danger even when he’s in the thick of it.
“I know this isn’t where you want to be, but until Rodney -”
“McKay?”
John blinks. “You know him?”
“He was at your funeral,” Dave says a little too quickly. John narrows his eyes, and Dave glares at him, which does exactly no good, so Dave adds, “And I caught a lecture of his at CalTech a few years ago.”
“I knew it!”
“Knew what?” He’s sulking now, and he blames John for that.
“Knew I couldn’t be the only science geek in the family,” John says. He’s far too superior about it.
“Shut up. Anyway, Dad wanted me to go,” Dave tells him.
“What? Why?”
“To see if he was worth hiring.” Now Dave’s exhaustion hits him hard, and he’d like nothing better than to take a nap.
John must see it in his face, because he says, “How about you get more sleep? I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can talk then.”
Dave drifts off mid nod.
~*~*~
“Good. You’re awake,” Dave hears as soon as he opens his eyes. Rodney McKay is standing at the foot of his bed and holding a box. He looks impatient.
“Just barely.” Dave frowns. “Is there a problem?”
“No. No problem.” McKay pulls a small - something - from the box and tosses it to Dave, who catches it with a slight fumble.
“Is there some reason you’re throwing things at me?” The object is about the size and shape of a Game Boy, and the screen lights up with a schematic and several dots.
“No, no reason other than you have the gene,” McKay says, sounding both pleased and irritated, which is an interesting trick. “And since you have nothing else to do other than lie around in bed -”
“Hey!”
“- you can make yourself useful.” McKay drags a chair forward then pulls a laptop out of the box. As he settles himself, he says, “When I hand you something, I want you to make sure it turns on, and then I want you to tell me what it does.”
“Excuse me?”
McKay doesn’t even look up. “I know you’re not the smart brother, but do you think you could at least try to follow along? It’s not as if I’m using big words here.”
Dave is about to toss the Game Boy at McKay’s head when it disappears from his hand.
“Don’t think I don’t get the temptation, because I do,” John says, holding the Game Boy out of reach. “But McKay is kind of important around here.”
McKay sniffs. “Nice of you to acknowledge that.”
“What you doing here, Rodney? I could have sworn I told you to leave him alone.”
“You didn’t show up for light-switch duty,” he says, typing as fast as he talks. “Since your baby brother wasn’t doing anything important, I figured I would get his help.”
“We don’t know that he has the gene.”
“What gene?”
Both John and McKay ignore Dave’s question.
“Sure we do. He turned on the life signs detector without even thinking about it.”
“I told everyone, including you, that I didn’t want him tested.”
“Yes, well, too bad.” Dave has never enjoyed being on the wrong side of John’s temper, and he’s a little impressed by the way McKay lets it roll over him.
“Damn it, McKay!”
“We don’t have a lot of leeway to pander to your delicate sensibilities here,” McKay says. “And did it occur to you that knowing whether or not Baby Sheppard -”
“Hey!”
“- here has the gene might possibly affect how we deal with the nanites?”
John frowns. “Will it?”
“Well. No. But that’s beside the point.” McKay pulls another device out of the box and slaps it into Dave’s hand. “Tell it to turn on, then tell me what it does.”
“How the hell am I -”
Dave stops short when the thing starts glowing at him. He stares at it, and after a moment, he clutches at his head because it’s going too, too fast, and it hurts, and he doesn’t need this kind of pain again. Ever. It slows down after he thinks that, and the migraine-to-be settles into a dull ache in the front of his head. John and McKay are yelling at each other, and after a moment, Dave is able to focus enough to tell them both to shut up.
He throws the device at McKay’s head - happy that John doesn’t stop him this time - and says, “It’s an astronomy tutor.”
McKay blinks at him. “Really? What galaxy?”
“How am I supposed to -” It’s odd, but the information pops up in his brain like a help bubble. “This one. I think.”
“From ten thousand years ago or -”
“Out!” At some point when Dave was getting a crash course in local astronomy, John had moved around the bed, and now he was picking up the box and physically dragging McKay toward the door.
“But -”
“Not. Now.” After McKay is tossed out, John glares at the door, and Dave hears the snick of a lock. John takes a deep breath and looks at Dave again. “Sorry about that.”
“I’m on board with the fact that I’m in Atlantis, and I’m coming to accept the concept of space vampires,” Dave says with a small shudder, “but what the hell do my genes have to do with anything?”
John scratches the back of his neck. “I kind of glossed over that yesterday, didn’t I?”
“Kind of?”
“Okay, I totally glossed over it.” John sits on the edge of the bed and makes the same face he used to whenever he heard Brussels sprouts were on the menu. “The Ancients didn’t just seed worlds with humans. They - mingled.”
“Mingled?”
John waggles his eyebrows, and Dave smacks his leg. “You’re not twelve.”
“I’m as old as I feel,” he says piously.
“John.”
“Fine. To put it delicately, romance blossomed at some point between one or more Ancients and one or more humans. The result is that occasionally, the ATA gene crops up in a modern human.”
Dave thinks about it for a moment. “I have the gene?”
“The Force runs strong in our family, Luke.”
“Asshole.” An ugly thought occurs to him. “Is this why I was attacked? Because of the gene?”
“No.” John looks a little guilty. “Not exactly.”
Fandom: SGA
Rating: Not worth stressing over
Pairings: Rodney and ancient tech would be the underlying OTP. The overlying OTP is nonexistent, because this is gen, baby. Oh, yeah!
Notes: I can’t get into John’s or Rodney’s head, but for some reason, I can get into Dave Sheppard’s head. Go figure. I started writing this as a sort of sequel to Waking John, but 2,600 words into it, I realized I had no idea where I was going with it. I had the same problem with Stupid Portal, only it took me 10,000 words to find the plot in that one. Lately, I don’t have that much patience with myself.
~*~*~
It’s a little more than two years since their father died and maybe ten months or so since John came back from the dead, and Dave finds himself regretting the same damn things all over again: he and John still haven’t fully reconciled, John is too involved with his secret mission to make family a priority, Dave is too involved with the family business to make John a priority. It’s ridiculous, and he really does know better than to leave these things until later, but Dave did it again anyway, and now he’s sliding toward bitter over the fact that he and John can’t get it right even with second and third chances.
Another spasm wracks his body, and all Dave can think about is how much he wishes someone would grow a set and put him out of his goddamn misery. He’s ready to make a deal with the devil, if necessary, and the only thing helping him ride out the pain is the thought of John’s face when they read Dave’s will to him. He lets out a puff of breath in lieu of a chuckle as his muscles slowly relax again.
There’s a commotion outside his door, but Dave can’t bring himself to give a damn. Not now. Maybe later, after they give him a painkiller, but not now. Then he hears John’s voice rise above the others, and he sighs. Much though he’d rather retreat into his head, the fact that John is outside makes him think he doesn’t have long to go. On the plus side, he has one last shot at making peace with John, and that’s probably worth skipping meds over.
Dave opens his eyes when John says, “You’re not dying.”
“Didn’t know you’d gotten your MD,” he says, pausing to catch his breath. John, who knows him better than anyone, despite the years of silence, waits for Dave to finish. “’M hurt you didn’t invite me to the commencement.”
“Yeah, whatever. Look, I’ve got my people outside arguing with your doctors about me taking medical custody.” John looks a bit sheepish. “Which I am, by the way, because they can’t help you here.”
“Don’t have the right.”
“Sure I do,” John says with a grim smile. “I’m family, remember?”
“Sarah -”
“Brother trumps cousin.” John turns around and calls out, “Rodney, get in here.”
“John, don’t,” Dave wants to say, but he can’t.
The spasm that hits is worse than anything he’s suffered through yet, with pain seeming to radiate from everywhere and nowhere. He’s in so much pain and his muscles are so completely out of control that he can’t even curl up to find scant relief. He thinks there might be hands holding him still, but he can’t be certain, not with the pain itself overriding every other sensation. For a long moment, he hangs motionless in agony, and then abruptly, the pain is gone.
Completely.
Dave lies there, panting, as he realizes that he feels normal for the first time in a week. His mouth is dry, but that’s okay, because John is there with a moist swab. Dave chases every last bit of moisture in the swab, and then John raises the bed enough to help him sit forward a little. John earns Dave’s undying gratitude when he helps him take a small sip of water.
A few minutes later, Dave says, “Yeah. Okay. You want medical custody, I’m all for that.”
If he had the strength, Dave would slap the inevitable smirk off John’s face. Instead, he mutters something about payback and drifts hazily while leaning against John’s chest. He doesn’t remember feeling quite this safe since childhood, and that comfort relaxes him into a dreamless sleep.
~*~*~
When Dave wakes up, he has no idea how much time has passed, and for that matter, he has no idea where he is. He’s never seen a hospital room decorated quite the way this one is and can’t believe the military has that much imagination. When he sees John asleep in a nearby chair, Dave wonders how close he came to dying.
For a long time, he simply stares at John, who is asleep with his legs stretched out and his chin tucked into his chest. He looks all of twelve years old, which is absurd for a man his age, and Dave feels compelled to do something about that. It takes him a minute to find what he’s looking for - a cup of ice - and another to situate himself well enough to start flicking ice chips at John. It’s juvenile, and he should have outgrown this behavior once he got out of puberty, but he can’t resist. And anyway, it works, because John startles awake after the third chip lands on his left eyelid.
“The hell?”
Dave leans back, exhausted from such little effort, but he doesn’t mind. There’s no trace of pain, and there’s a good chance he might live after all. He says, “Nice to see you, too, sleepyhead. This how you keep watch when you’re on duty?”
John wipes his face off and scowls, but his heart isn’t in it, and Dave wonders if he’s not out of the woods yet. “How are you feeling?”
Like death warmed over, he thinks. “Tired,” he says, opting for the softer truth.
“Getting infested will do that to you.” John stands up and takes the two steps necessary to bring him to Dave’s side. He looks serious and focused, and for the first time ever, Dave almost believes that John really is the older brother, and it - wait -
“Infested?” The last time Dave heard that word used in this way was when they were nine, and their housekeeper was complaining about lice making the rounds at a nearby public school.
“Infested,” John confirms, his gaze going flat, and Dave can’t stop the shiver that runs through him. John is military, and while Dave isn’t sure about the details of John’s service, he’s suddenly certain that John has killed and is quite ready to do so again - on Dave’s behalf, which is too surreal for him to think about right now.
“John -”
“Look.” John stares at him for a few seconds, his intensity easing enough for Dave to breathe normally again, before finding the rest of his words. “I know what happened to you, and I want to tell you, but you have to sign an NDA first.”
The comment is so far out of left field that Dave is left to wonder if maybe the medications have affected his perception of reality. He blinks and waits for John to smirk and laugh. When John doesn’t do either of those things, Dave says, “I have to sign a non -”
“- disclosure agreement. Yeah.” John follows that up by moving a bed tray over Dave’s lap. There’s a short stack of paper and a pen on the tray, and Dave has to process that this is a real requirement, because whoever heard of a patient having to sign an NDA before they were told about what almost killed them?
“This is -“
“- nuts. I know,” John says. He nudges the tray a little closer. “Sign it, Luke, and I’ll tell you who your real father is.”
“Asshole,” Dave mutters. He ignores John and starts speed-reading through the document. When he hits the third page, he stops and goes back to page one to start reading more carefully. While he’s signed any number of state and federal NDAs, he’s never seen one that threatened to prosecute him for treason and execute him should he be found guilty of disclosing what he was about to learn.
Without looking up, Dave asks, “If I don’t sign?”
“You’ll be stuck in this room for the duration and knocked unconscious when it’s time to get you home.”
“What’s the duration?” Dave isn’t all that eager to sign the NDA, and depending on John’s answer -
“Anywhere from two months to a year,” John says.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Sorry, but I’m not.” Dave looks up then, and he sees the regret on John’s face.
“Jesus.”
Nearly an hour later, after Dave has read through the thing twice and tried unsuccessfully to convince himself that he can stay in a tiny room for a year, he signs the damn thing and hopes like hell it’s worth it. He has no idea how he’s supposed to keep an eye on Shepco while he’s stuck here, but he suspects it will be easier to do if he’s not confined to this room.
John accepts the sheaf of papers back from Dave and goes to the door to hand them off to someone else then comes back to talk to him. Nearly an hour after that, Dave is glaring at John.
“Space vampires?” Dave doesn’t have the energy for this. He should be sleeping and recovering, not fighting with John. But still - “And you thought bringing me here was a good idea because why again?”
John snaps, “Did you miss the part about the nanites in your body? The ones that will broadcast their location as soon as you get back on Earth?”
“No, but -” He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be home, taking care of business during the week and riding during the weekend. Exploration was always John’s thing, because John was, and still is, a fearless prick who doesn’t understand danger even when he’s in the thick of it.
“I know this isn’t where you want to be, but until Rodney -”
“McKay?”
John blinks. “You know him?”
“He was at your funeral,” Dave says a little too quickly. John narrows his eyes, and Dave glares at him, which does exactly no good, so Dave adds, “And I caught a lecture of his at CalTech a few years ago.”
“I knew it!”
“Knew what?” He’s sulking now, and he blames John for that.
“Knew I couldn’t be the only science geek in the family,” John says. He’s far too superior about it.
“Shut up. Anyway, Dad wanted me to go,” Dave tells him.
“What? Why?”
“To see if he was worth hiring.” Now Dave’s exhaustion hits him hard, and he’d like nothing better than to take a nap.
John must see it in his face, because he says, “How about you get more sleep? I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can talk then.”
Dave drifts off mid nod.
~*~*~
“Good. You’re awake,” Dave hears as soon as he opens his eyes. Rodney McKay is standing at the foot of his bed and holding a box. He looks impatient.
“Just barely.” Dave frowns. “Is there a problem?”
“No. No problem.” McKay pulls a small - something - from the box and tosses it to Dave, who catches it with a slight fumble.
“Is there some reason you’re throwing things at me?” The object is about the size and shape of a Game Boy, and the screen lights up with a schematic and several dots.
“No, no reason other than you have the gene,” McKay says, sounding both pleased and irritated, which is an interesting trick. “And since you have nothing else to do other than lie around in bed -”
“Hey!”
“- you can make yourself useful.” McKay drags a chair forward then pulls a laptop out of the box. As he settles himself, he says, “When I hand you something, I want you to make sure it turns on, and then I want you to tell me what it does.”
“Excuse me?”
McKay doesn’t even look up. “I know you’re not the smart brother, but do you think you could at least try to follow along? It’s not as if I’m using big words here.”
Dave is about to toss the Game Boy at McKay’s head when it disappears from his hand.
“Don’t think I don’t get the temptation, because I do,” John says, holding the Game Boy out of reach. “But McKay is kind of important around here.”
McKay sniffs. “Nice of you to acknowledge that.”
“What you doing here, Rodney? I could have sworn I told you to leave him alone.”
“You didn’t show up for light-switch duty,” he says, typing as fast as he talks. “Since your baby brother wasn’t doing anything important, I figured I would get his help.”
“We don’t know that he has the gene.”
“What gene?”
Both John and McKay ignore Dave’s question.
“Sure we do. He turned on the life signs detector without even thinking about it.”
“I told everyone, including you, that I didn’t want him tested.”
“Yes, well, too bad.” Dave has never enjoyed being on the wrong side of John’s temper, and he’s a little impressed by the way McKay lets it roll over him.
“Damn it, McKay!”
“We don’t have a lot of leeway to pander to your delicate sensibilities here,” McKay says. “And did it occur to you that knowing whether or not Baby Sheppard -”
“Hey!”
“- here has the gene might possibly affect how we deal with the nanites?”
John frowns. “Will it?”
“Well. No. But that’s beside the point.” McKay pulls another device out of the box and slaps it into Dave’s hand. “Tell it to turn on, then tell me what it does.”
“How the hell am I -”
Dave stops short when the thing starts glowing at him. He stares at it, and after a moment, he clutches at his head because it’s going too, too fast, and it hurts, and he doesn’t need this kind of pain again. Ever. It slows down after he thinks that, and the migraine-to-be settles into a dull ache in the front of his head. John and McKay are yelling at each other, and after a moment, Dave is able to focus enough to tell them both to shut up.
He throws the device at McKay’s head - happy that John doesn’t stop him this time - and says, “It’s an astronomy tutor.”
McKay blinks at him. “Really? What galaxy?”
“How am I supposed to -” It’s odd, but the information pops up in his brain like a help bubble. “This one. I think.”
“From ten thousand years ago or -”
“Out!” At some point when Dave was getting a crash course in local astronomy, John had moved around the bed, and now he was picking up the box and physically dragging McKay toward the door.
“But -”
“Not. Now.” After McKay is tossed out, John glares at the door, and Dave hears the snick of a lock. John takes a deep breath and looks at Dave again. “Sorry about that.”
“I’m on board with the fact that I’m in Atlantis, and I’m coming to accept the concept of space vampires,” Dave says with a small shudder, “but what the hell do my genes have to do with anything?”
John scratches the back of his neck. “I kind of glossed over that yesterday, didn’t I?”
“Kind of?”
“Okay, I totally glossed over it.” John sits on the edge of the bed and makes the same face he used to whenever he heard Brussels sprouts were on the menu. “The Ancients didn’t just seed worlds with humans. They - mingled.”
“Mingled?”
John waggles his eyebrows, and Dave smacks his leg. “You’re not twelve.”
“I’m as old as I feel,” he says piously.
“John.”
“Fine. To put it delicately, romance blossomed at some point between one or more Ancients and one or more humans. The result is that occasionally, the ATA gene crops up in a modern human.”
Dave thinks about it for a moment. “I have the gene?”
“The Force runs strong in our family, Luke.”
“Asshole.” An ugly thought occurs to him. “Is this why I was attacked? Because of the gene?”
“No.” John looks a little guilty. “Not exactly.”